


On Pressing, Or Marking, Or Scratching With The Nails

by arobynsung



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/F, Female-Centric, Infidelity, Scratching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-10
Updated: 2010-11-10
Packaged: 2017-10-05 18:30:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arobynsung/pseuds/arobynsung
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Prompt (from Kama Sutra translation):</b> When love becomes intense, pressing with the nails or scratching the body with them is practised, and it is done on the following occasions: on the first visit; at the time of setting out on a journey; on the return from a journey; at the time when an angry lover is reconciled; and lastly when the woman is intoxicated. But pressing with the nails is not a usual thing except with those who are intensely passionate, that is full of passion. It is employed, together with biting, by those to whom the practice is agreeable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Pressing, Or Marking, Or Scratching With The Nails

She rolled onto her back in an attempt to loosen the knotted muscles, it didn't work, succeeding only in irritating the shallow scratches and cuts scattered all over her back, with more concentrated on her spine. One would expect she would mind being marked like that, but it's not as if Harry would ever notice.

They never made love and when they did, a strong _Nox_ charm was firmly in place. Even then, Ginny wouldn't call it love, more like a quick rut under the sheets at midnight when they both turned in for the day. Him from the Ministry, she from chasing after their children and trying to keep the house respectable.

It was all very normal, very expected, very blah. It was why Ginny wanted to be marked; owned by someone whose passion was more than paperwork from their latest case. A deviation from the laundry, the dishes, the dull stifling monotony that had become her life. Years ago, if someone had told her that this is where she'd end up, they'd have probably been off to St. Mungos trying to rid themselves of the Bat Bogey hex's intensity.

-

Her head lifted at the pop signalling her lover's apparition into the suite. Pansy said nothing, but with a smirk began to undress without preamble. Ginny smiled in response. This was routine by now. Pansy would pop in, find Ginny stretched out on the bed, and strip.

Ginny felt her body temperature rise at the sight now before her as Pansy moved catlike onto the bed in nothing but a bra and knickers. Pansy leaned down and swept her lips over Ginny's sensitive neck, all the while letting a hand trail slowly down Ginny's stomach, nails digging in lightly, leaving raised red lines, angry against Ginny's pale and freckled skin.

Ginny shivered in response and arched her body, bringing her arms around the brunette to pull her closer, losing herself in the sensation of skin on skin, and the freedom of it all. Ginny gasped as Pansy moved lower, her tongue leaving a trail of wet skin that tingled, distracting her from the hand that was steadily scraping it's way down her abdomen. A moan caught in Ginny's throat as the hand dipped down into her folds and roughly twisted past her clit and into her, causing her to relinquish all control, mind blanking and buzzing from the unrelenting pleasure marked with mild stings of pain that only heightened the sensations and drove her further into oblivion.

-

Coming down from the high was always the worst thing. Ginny despised her orgasms as much as she relished them; they signalled the drawing end of their encounter. Ginny turned her head to face the Pansy who lay beside her on her stomach, Pansy's back raw from the attention the other woman's nails had inflicted on it.

Ginny counted the scratches, fresh and healing, as she began the routine justification, "We could leave."

Pansy smiled and hummed non-commitally.

"It would be within our rights, we've given them their heirs, we deserve our freedom."

Another hum, followed by a sweet kiss, the only sweetness shared, and the painful rustles of Pansy pulling her clothes back on and the condemning pop as she apparated out.

-

That night as she lay listening to Harry's steady breathing, Ginny dreamed of pain and passion and pleasure. In a place where the dreadful normalcy couldn't reach her, her dreams full of a wily brunette with a punishing tongue, unrelenting fingers, and sharp nails.

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** I'm in no way disparaging the life of a stay-at-home mom, it's just not for Ginny at least in the context of this fic. Pansy is a brunette in this, I think she's blond in canon, but then in the movie she was brunette and it is that version that has stuck in fanon and works for my story. She is also married to Draco, that being the only non-epilogue compliant thing in the story.


End file.
